Checkmate
by Dove dubs
Summary: When two boys disappear, Cloud begins the search. But as he ventures deeper into the investigation he realizes he's intruding on old loyalties, new debts, and even more worryingly, that something far sinister skulks inside Edge's murky underworld. Post AC
1. Prologue:Little Boy Blue

*waves*

Um. Yup. I'm back. Hopefully for good this time. My history class had begun during the first week of July so updating wasn't a huge priority. Then I got my wisdom teeth yanked out a few days ago and was bedridden. I thought about updating my status on my profile but I didn't think many people would bothering reading so that never happened. And I really hate it when authors put up a hiatus note on their stories. It always gets to me. Especially if I was excited for an update, so I didn't want to put you guys in that spot either.

Sorry.

And bear with me on this new story. Its my first attempt to write chapters rather than a series of shots so if things get bumpy, tell me and I'll try to fix it. Criticism is welcome. After prologue, chapters _will _be longer.

Oh, if you're looking for pure romance fluff its unlikely you'll find it here. I'm flexing my fingers on the mystery genre so you'll probably first encounter squirreled secrets, Cloud angst, massive confusion, and _then_ a helping of Cloti on the side.

Disclaimer: FFVII is the property of SE

* * *

_Who cut off their tails with a carving knife,  
Did you ever see such a sight in your life,  
As three blind mice_

* * *

**Prologue **

Little Boy Blue

* * *

The darkness of the sleeping city stirred at his flight, its hollow silence broken by his pounding footsteps and heavy breathing. Awakened by the tremors, rats darted out between the crevices, their beady eyes reserving judgment, flashed red as the crouched and stared impassively at the man's retreating form.

In the distance, an inhuman screech the night. Even the ground shuddered to hear, the moon beating hungrily down on the damp pavement as the roaring drew nearer. Immediately, the hooded figure stiffened then muttering a curse, he swerved sharply into a darkened alley. Only the smothering blackness beckoned to him, pulling him deeper and shielding him within its inky mists.

Wheezing, he raised his head with supreme effort. The striking skeleton of Monument Bridge loomed large in his peripheral vision, and grew larger still with each strenuous step. How much further? He couldn't guess. The slums were usually a place he avoided and tonight, he'd taken too many detours to be sure.

His shadow, flickering along the road was caught underneath a light pole, stretching into a pair of long limbs. Strong arms pumped the air, scarred hands visible through the gloom. In his left, he clutched a manila envelope. There was nothing remarkable on its exterior, no stamped seals or messily scrawled address, still, the man pressed it closer to his chest. He was taking no chances tonight. He leapt lightly over the slosh of trash and rubble, his narrowed eyes never once straying from his goal.

A sudden shriek of metal grinding against cement shattered the silence. His breath hitched. The crash sounded but a few seconds away. Not good. They would be here soon. Without turning his back, the man began sprinting with a renewed vigor. He wished he had the foresight to bring a gun. Two hours ago when he first bolted out the door, he had weighed the consequences. Being slammed in jail was his kindest punishment. The more probable outcome included a stuck knife, and his body being tossed overboard some boat.

He _knew _that. Except they hadn't felt real _then_. Now as he spun angrily from another dead end, the first beginnings of fear hit him with a cold rush. He was terrified.

He kept on running. He didn't care where. The mixture of adrenaline and panic, like a double edged sword, lent him speed but wiped his mind blank. His arms flailed madly as he scrambled towards the nearest building. Then, with shaky fingers, he stuffed his envelope into a corner, pivoted and ran back the way he came. If he was to be caught, he'd sooner be damned than hand over the evidence.

The street was empty when the man finally broke free from the alleyway. Pausing for breath, he strained his ears; sight was often misleading. Any small twitch in shadow could merely be the effect of a failing bulb. Though what he heard next, he knew, was no illusion. It was cleverly muffled, almost indiscernible but undeniably, there. The soft purring of an idling engine.

They were right on him.

Swearing loudly, he jumped to his feet and tried to make one last desperate run. Seconds later, a sleek black hurtled onto the road and tore after him. His lungs burned and he gulped in air frantically. This was the end.

The chase was pitifully short, less than a minute. As he stood, squinting against the bright headlights, a blonde woman stepped out of the vehicle. She was quite young, not more than twenty five. She did not seem afraid, and her grey, steadfast eyes looked straight at him.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?" He shrugged, picking at his collar. He didn't feel threatened. Hardly. Despite the woman's cool appearance, he'd detected a hint of impatience in her voice. In his line of work, he'd met many of her kind. Emotion meant inexperience. Until she called his bluff, he would continue to deny everything. Meanwhile, he could keep an out eye out for an escape route. "I don't have anything."

"The package."

A man's voice behind him made him start and turn. He was impressively tall. Unlike his partner, there was an air of cool professionalism about him which demanded obedience. His eyes were hard as steel when they roved over his body.

'Like I told her, I don't have it."

"He's lying!"

The woman flushed. "Nobody else was seen leaving the place," she added, looking meaningfully at him. "If he doesn't have it here, that just means he stashed it away somewhere."

"H-Hey!"

The man nodded at her then held out his hand "I'll give you one chance, Blue, to tell me the location. One. It's a generous offer. I'd take it if I were you."

Staring up at his captor, Blue shuddered. Any notions he'd entertained of weaseling out with lies fled his head. A single glance told him nothing got past this man. Not ever. And in the event someone did challenge him, the slight protrusion in the man's left breast pocket told Blue all he needed to know. It'd be an incredibly stupid move to press his luck further.

He dropped his gaze.

A pause.

"It's behind a dumpster, two blocks from here...Take a left around this corner and.." He took a step forward.

A shot rang out. Suddenly his knees felt weak, and his chest seized. Whimpering, Blue crumpled to the ground. His vision swam.

The smooth barrel of a gun was pointed to where he last stood, its deadly metal sheen reflecting the dim light. He coughed. A dribble of blood escaped his mouth. He was so tired. Already his world was tinged with spots of grey.

"Idiot! Why did you -"

The woman's voice cut in. "I didn't mean too! I thought he was going to run ag-

Blackness.

* * *

Prologue Fin


	2. When the bough breaks

AN: W00t! Second update! More of a catching-up-filler chapter than anything else though. And if the pace is too slow, I'd appreciate it if you tell me. Thanks in advance.

Also many hugs and scooby treats to: mom calling, gingerbreadbear, ajax710vv, mirrorshine, vLuna and Vanilla Raindrops for reviewing.

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_Till human voices wake us, and we drown _

- T.S. Eliot

* * *

**Chapter One**

When the bough breaks

* * *

"Then one night the short stubby man knocked on her doorstep. And he asked the queen, "What's my name?"

Cloud shifted his weight on the chair and leaned forward, clearing his voice. Perched between the index and thumb of his right hand was a thick bright-yellow volume of children's fairytales. The moogle-shaped alarm clock next to Marlene's bed displayed the time as ten o' clock.

"Is your name Conrad?"

Cloud cringed. His voice sounded strained and unnatural even to his own ears but he smiled when Marlene giggled. It was hardly a huge feat. The girl took after Tifa and was always chipper but the sound of laughter loosened another knot inside him. He waited for Marlene's reply.

Holding her doll close, she crossed her eyes and grunted. "No, it isn't!"

Their eyes met, and instinctively he grinned back. He knew his self consciousness would never fade completely. He had too many scars, too many burdens to ever feel wholly free, but moments like these helped him imagine.

"Is it Michael?"

"No, it isn't Michael!"

"Is it, by chance," began Cloud, then paused for dramatic effect. "Rumplestilskin?"

The thin trace of pent up excitement which underlay Marlene's tone had not escaped him. While she must have heard the story read over a dozen times, Marlene never seemed to tire of its ending. She pounced at once.

"No, no, no!" she cried, thumping the covers with her fists for good measure. "Someone told you!" Then she drew in another breath. Cloud put the book down and smiled at her encouragingly. "And the little man stomped his feet so hard he broke through the floor and nobody saw him again. The end."

Sighing contentedly, Marlene looked to Cloud, her eyes bright. "Isn't it lucky the boy heard him singing? I don't think anyone could have guessed it right. But why want a baby? If I were him, I'd ask the king for my own castle!"

"Well," said Cloud slowly. "He did live in the ground by himself. Fellow could get lonely."

"Maybe. But you know what," Marlene added, turning her head thoughtfully towards him. "Even though he was evil, sometimes I don't think the troll was _all _bad."

His eyebrows went up.

Marlene flushed and hastened to explain. "Nobody's born mean. That's what Tifa says. And he did help the girl when she was crying…he just probably didn't have very nice parents. Who names their kid Rumplestilskin anyways?" She scrunched her nose in distaste. "That's such a silly name."

Cloud chuckled and ruffled her hair fondly. "I think so too. Or maybe he named himself. When you fall asleep and dream about him, ask him for me."

'Kay.'

Cloud tucked the blankets snugly under the girl's chin, his chair giving a creak as he stood up. A cool breeze fluttered the curtains and out of habit he glanced out the window. Since there was a full moon outside Marlene could flip off her night lamp. Four months ago Denzel had jokingly teased her and afterwards Marlene had refused to sleep with it on. However, because she was still afraid of the dark despite her determination _not_ to let it show, this led to more nights than Cloud could count where either he or Tifa would stay up with Marlene until she fell asleep. He hadn't really minded, business was slow these days but eventually, last month, they'd come to a compromise and now Marlene only turned off the light when the moon was full.

"Sleep tight." said Cloud softly, twisting the knob on the door.

"Cloud?"

There was a slight quiver in Marlene's voice that made him pause. He walked back. In the darkened room he first noticed the small bump in bed then two brown eyes peeped sleepily over the pink covers. Cloud could tell she was fighting to stay awake when she yawned. He

"Yes?"

"…You..you don't think.."

She stopped.

"I don't think.." he prompted gently.

"..that Rumplestilskin's real." Her eyes skirted around the room. "Lani told me Neely hasn't seen her brothers since Monday. But they'll come back home, won't they? He's just a story person."

As she said it, Cloud felt a chill prick the nape of his neck. He hesitated, mulling the answer in his head then looked down at Marlene. She was watching him, trying to determine the seriousness of the situation from his expression. Should he lie to comfort her? Though what happens once often happens again. If she found out, it would break the fragile bond they were building. He might never repair the damage. And he knew firsthand how easily lies could unravel. Wasn't the truth always better?

"Neely will see them again, won't she?" Marlene repeated.

He was only standing next to her bed, and yet he knew her body was stiff.

"I don't know." he replied. "I wish I did. But you're right, Rumplestilskin isn't real, sweetie. So he can't have taken them. But sometimes boys will run away. We're a hotheaded bunch and we don't learn well. If we give them time, they might come back by themselves.

"And if they don't?"

"Then we'll look for them." he said quietly, patting her hand. "You, me, Tifa and Denzel. We'll comb the whole neighborhood until we find them for Neely. Promise."

Marlene let out her breath in a sigh and relaxed. "Really?"

"We will. Now go to sleep."

Cloud waited until her breathing became slow and regular before walking towards the door. He made sure to leave it ajar in case of any nightmares. After their talk, he had a feeling those would return in a short while.

He passed Denzel's room and was surprised to find the boy already fast asleep. Usually Denzel would be busy at his desk, happily gluing another piece to his airplane model. Hovering near the doorway, Cloud smiled when Denzel gave a snort and rolled over. As his eyes scanned the room, Cloud quickly found the culprit. A pile of unfinished math homework lay on the floor, however the pencil and eraser was nowhere to be seen. Cloud made mental note to ask him about it the next time Denzel was awake.

The smell of warm apples and cinnamon wafted under his nose as he padded down the stairs. It eased his thoughts and he was grateful. He didn't want to admit, but Marlene's words had disturbed him. Though Cloud wasn't altogether clear why. Kids disappearing weren't an uncommon occurrence in Edge, specifically in the slums. Nobody wanted to die an unachiever. Boys especially. They wanted to make something of themselves and those who were orphans often simply up and went without so much as a bye to the rest of the neighborhood.

He _knew_ that.

Almost first hand, if it weren't for Tifa. Still he couldn't shake the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. At the landing he stopped, straining his ears for any hints of whimpers and when he heard none, Cloud gripped the banister tighter. At least his conscience, if not his stomach, could rest easy. He honestly did not know. As far as he could tell, the brothers would probably return home within a few days or send a letter.

Pushing open the kitchen door, Cloud resolved to have a talk with Yuffie soon about the going ons of the city. And perhaps bring along Tifa as well. They could both go visit on Saturday morning after she closed down the bar. He sighed. His head throbbed just thinking of the meeting. Coffee and Yuffie never did mix well. They would have to plan it precisely so they arrive right _before_ her lunch break.

"I can hear your forehead scrunching, Cloud. What's wrong?" Tifa sounded curious rather than troubled. She was bending over the sink, washing the supper dishes.

Even so, he pulled his hands out of his pockets, scratching his neck. "Sorry. Just thinking about something." He tried a smile; gave it up with a shrug.

"Tell me." Tifa straightened her back slowly, hands dripping soapy water, but she did not turn to face him. He knew she was listening by the way she stood so still. He took a seat at the counter. Tifa's opinion mattered to him greatly. Even if in the end he couldn't do much to help find Neely's brothers, her listening carried the reassurance that he'd tried and they would face the matter together.

There was no point in delaying so he inhaled then plunged in. "Neely hasn't seen her brothers since three days ago."

Now she did look at him. "What do you mean? Did they go off to find work somewhere?"

Frowning, Cloud raked a hand through his hair with his shoulders slumped and elbows resting on the table. "I don't know. Marlene didn't say. But I don't think so. I don't even think they said goodbye, when they left, to Neely. Otherwise, she shouldn't be as worried. If it was just a case of the two leaving to join up somewhere and make money, they would at least mention it to their sister."

"But those three had a fight," Tifa pointed out. "Mr. Bell came in complaining last week that he couldn't sleep a wink. They were making so much racket."

"I remember. I passed by their street last Tuesday and I saw Leron storm out. Didn't even see me."

"And Jerome's only fifteen." she murmured, pouring Cloud a glass of brandy. He mumbled out his thanks and took a gulp, feeling the liquid hit his stomach like fire. It was soothing, mellow and full of warmth. "Aren't they too young to venture out of Edge by themselves?"

"I know. They are." replied Cloud seriously. "There shouldn't be any jobs available that could tempt them. Nobody would hire a fifteen and seventeen year old. Not without collateral. And definitely not when there's about a hundred other able men scrambling for work."

Tifa winced, not at his calloused words, but knowing the reality behind them was true. Ever since the Deepground incident, most of the population was still resentful of those who had been afflicted with Geostigma. The way they perceived it, the tainted were saved at the expense of the pures. Of course, these accusations were baseless but still they blamed them for the abduction and massacre of their relatives and though two years had gone by, were reluctant to forget. And being cursed at the bottom of society, those living on the street had nearly all contracted Geostigma at one point in their lives. Particularly the orphans.

Eyes downcast, she accepted the seat beside Cloud. She wished with all her heart the world was kinder to its children. None of the orphans deserved to pay the full price of an adult's mistake. They had rescued Denzel but there were more like Leron and Jerome, and they both knew that.

"You don't think we're being too jaded, are we?" she wondered aloud with a wry smile but her eyes were dark with worry. He knew fear and recognized it with instant familiarity. He felt sick.

"No," he told her. "There's a possibility somebody hired them but it's a slim to none chance. I think those boys are missing, Tifa. And whether they ran away or not, I don't like this. Mr. Bell said they were having screaming matches the night Neely saw them last. They used to be inseparable, those three."

Tifa digested the information in silence and again felt an acute sense of dismay. It sounded nothing like the sweet girl she had known. "What about the archives? Whenever a citizen exits the borders, the city guards keep a record of their statement."

"Yes. I was going to call up Yuffie tomorrow myself and see if she'll make room for us on Saturday."

Cloud swallowed another mouthful of brandy as Tifa stared hard at her mug of cocoa. They were both quiet, each lost in their own thoughts but concerned on the same subject. He looked at her eyes momentarily, and knew from a single glance, just as she knew it of him though neither was yet ready to find the words.

He looked down at her hands on the table. They were very slender, small but strong, made to protect. A fighter's hands. They would be broken before they let harm befall anyone but they would allow a butterfly to leave as simply as it had come. He loved her hands. He wanted to reach out and touch them but he felt self-conscious when there was so much more urgent business at hand.

"Barret is coming back from Mt. Corel," she said suddenly, not meeting his eyes. "He rang an hour ago but he didn't say when. I haven't told Marlene but I bet she'll thrilled. Do you think you can take the rest of next week off, just in case?"

"Probably," he confessed. He felt a rush of anticipation as the surprise news bled the tension from his chest. Three weeks from now would mark the fourth month since he'd last seen his friend in November. He knew it was tough for Barret, not having Marlene along, riding on his shoulders and calling him Papa but he sometimes wondered how the man coped. It couldn't be easy. Since moving in with Tifa and the kids, Cloud would admit he was different. Happiness had made him more relaxed. And family, not guilt, was what drove him on to confront each new dawn with a smile.

A shrill cry descended from upstairs, effectively breaking the silence. Tifa stood up. "That's Marlene. I'll go check on her. You look tired. You should go to bed. Whatever happens, we'll worry about it together. You shouldn't save all the wrinkles for yourself." She said it gently, but she was not going to accept an argument and he had no desire to offer any.

"Yeah." He rose too and took their cups, flashing her tired smile.

Tifa smiled back, and reaching out, touched him quickly and very gently on the cheek. He felt the heat of it run through him. Then she turned, disappeared out the kitchen and the room seemed a little less bright.

As he strode up to the top of the stairs, he touched his cheek experimentally. It was still warm.


	3. Down will come baby

AN: Yay! Second chapter. Much developments ahead. And while I wrote this, I flattered myself as a real mystery author. Whether or not that's true, the verdict remains up to you. Please be kind. :D

And I know this has much to do with nothing but Franz Ferdinand! is coming over to Vancouver to perform for a music festival on Sept. 6th. I'm so psyched, I can hardly wait! I adore them, and I'll mindlessly chase them anywhere.

A bucket of awesome to those who reviewed: mom calling, Kainos Ktisis, NinjaNOE (you reviewed anonymously so I couldn't reply but _thank-you_ for the con. crit. I'll remember to pay attention to that), Vanilla Raindrops, gingerbreadbear and vLuna. I love hearing your guys' reactions.

* * *

_'..blood on the streets, you see the trouble happening..'_

_- The Enemy  
_

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**Chapter Two  
**

Down will come baby

* * *

Tifa rose early the next morning, and was disappointed to find that Cloud had already left. There was a note from him on the kitchen table. The sun was not out, a cluster of clouds against the pale grey sky, warning of heavy rainfall. She wondered if Cloud brought his helmet.

Sighing, she tacked the note to the fridge door. She had expected him to sleep in late. The news of the missing brothers was worrying, and if she knew Cloud, he almost certainly wouldn't have caught much sleep last night.

_How much rest could a person miss before he collapsed? _

_What would it take for Cloud to realize he didn't need to spread himself paper thin anymore?_

Tifa shivered as she brewed a pot of coffee. It was colder in the kitchen than her bedroom. The wooden floorboards sapped the heat greedily, spreading an icy prickling sensation which numbed her feet. She rooted through the hallway closet until she found a pair of slippers. Then she laid out the kids' shoes and jackets before shuffling back to prepare for breakfast.

At ten to eight, Tifa poured the pancake batter into pan and after setting the stove to low, hurried up the stairs to rouse Marlene and Denzel. She reached Marlene's room first but the little girl moaned for five more minutes so Tifa moved on to next door. Denzel was much better, his eyes bright and alert when he cheerily wished her a good morning then darting off to the bathroom. As she treaded lightly down the stairs, she could hear Marlene banging on the door, hissing: "C'mon!" and "Brush faster!"

When she reached to stove, Tifa adjusted the dial to medium and began flipping the pancakes, humming all the while.

They weren't hard to make, pancakes. The trick, she mused, was to flip at the right time, when the edges were dry and the top stops bubbling. Otherwise, they turned out charred and black like the time Cloud volunteered to cook breakfast. Tifa winced in memory. At the time, she hadn't the heart to tell him it was inedible. Rather, she sneaked a pack of granola bars and trial mix to the kids when his back was turned.

Once all five pancakes were resting on a plate, a curl of steam rising from its core, she sliced a slab of butter and waited.

Eventually the two made it into the kitchen though Marlene, Tifa noticed, was barely able to stifle her yawn as she bounded towards her for a hug. She pushed her palm to Marlene's forehead worriedly, murmuring, "Bad sleep?"

"Kind of. I dreamt that the sun didn't come out so the whole world was dark. And there were lots of monsters everywhere, only they didn't want to eat us, they wanted us to spin straw into gold for them. You were there too, Denzel! But when you told them that was impossible, they made you disappear! Then I was alone with the hay." Marlene sucked in a breath, shrugging her shoulders apologetically. "I don't remember much after that."

"Oh, sweetheart." said Tifa gently.

She felt a dip in her stomach but understood there were just some things kids couldn't be protected from. "Here, have some orange juice. It'll wake you right up and you can forget about that horrible dream."

"Yeah, "Denzel piped up from the table, spearing his fork into a sausage. He bit into it with relish, swallowing the mouthful with a big gulp then continued kindly. "Maybe you should try sleeping again with the light on, Marlene."

'No!" Marlene shook her head vehemently. "I'm not scared! The light stays off." Closing the door to the fridge, she accepted an empty plate, thanked Tifa, and sat down, cutting her pancake into itty pieces.

Tifa opened her mouth to say something then closed it.

She was familiar with the stubborn set of her jaw and knew nothing she said would sway Marlene's decision. Marlene was persistent like that. She recalled an old conversation about new recruits for Avalanche. In his own words, he'd said he 'didn't like no pushovers." Barret would be pleased.

Instead, Tifa smiled mildly the girl then moved to stand behind her. Her fingers weaved deftly through Marlene's hair, smoothing out the knots. "Guess who called yesterday?"

"Was it Yuffie?"

"Papa?"

Tifa turned her gaze from Denzel to Marlene and nodded. "Yes, he's popping in to visit soon, sweetie. Except you know your papa, he didn't say when. He probably knows you like a surprise."

"Really?!" cried Marlene, twisting in her seat to look at Tifa. She grinned happily. "I hope it's this week. Then when he comes, I can finally show him my new book. And the pictures I drew at school!"

Afterwards, Marlene seemed to perk up considerably. She finished off what was left on her plate in high spirits then lowered it carefully into the sink, Denzel quickly following suit a second later. By a quarter to nine, the two were bundled up in toques and mittens and walking out the door, Marlene taking the lead while Denzel waved goodbye.

***

The choice of whom to see first was not difficult. Tifa was reluctant to delay the meeting and so didn't mind going about it alone. Cloud, no doubt, may have intended to come but Tifa suspected in this situation two was not better than one. Instead of comforting, being probed by _two _adults might easily frighten the girl more.

Neely was nineteen years old, a waitress employed at a diner on Dovern Avenue, and the sole guardian of her two younger brothers, Leron and Jerome. She was also known for her fiery temper, and strong, capable set of lungs. Before Meteor collided with Midgar, she practiced singing to be a local theatre actress. After their parents perished in the Geostigma outbreak four years ago, she tucked her dreams away to find other means to support herself and her siblings. Tifa was the one who referred her to Mrs. Rudd.

Tifa always dressed very plainly whenever she went out, so she did not have any trouble passing almost unnoticed along the narrow streets to Neely's neighborhood. The cobblestones were sparse and oddly spaced which made walking difficult. She found herself wishing she wore boots instead of sneakers.

A sudden gust of wind blew off her balance, carrying with it the sounds of children's giggles and play rhymes long before her eyes touched the scene. She frowned. Although the WRO established free education, school was a luxury some families could not afford. They rather keep kids at home to help with chores until they were old enough to be apprenticed to a tradesman.

It took her several moments to push her way through unyielding bodies of men and women intent on crossing the road to the other side. She forced her way between two very brawny miners, soot still on their sleeves and overalls, and nearly bowled over the tall, slender man walking ahead of her. There was a permanent discoloration on the right side of his face, and he clutched a familiar silver flask in his weathered hands.

"Mr. Bell," Tifa said breathlessly, straightening herself and dusting her skirt off. By now, the surging crowd had largely abated and she could move more freely. "Sorry about that. I'm glad I bumped into you. Can I speak to you for a moment? I promise I won't take up much of your time. It's about Neely."

The man pulled his cap in recognition but shook his head politely. "No can do, Tifa. I'm late to work as it is and the boss can be a real monster. But sorry business, that. Poor Neely loved her brothers, even when they did stupid things. They were all she had left. Tell you what though, my dear, my flask is dry. I'll swing by tonight for two bottles of Corel whisky. And I can answer your questions then."

There was no choice but to accept his offer so she agreed and Mr. Bell hastened down the streets and rejoined the masses.

She continued walking for a few more minutes then turned into a half-hidden crescent. Ten rickety houses stood in a line, their rooftops blackened by the chimneys puffing a thick column of grey acrid smoke. Tifa coughed twice, shielding her eyes.

A messy scrawl of last names substituted for door numbers and she headed towards the one which read, Tarin. The front porch creaked as she climbed the steps. Tifa knocked, and barely a second passed before it was flung open by a freckled, red haired girl with a tremendously eager expression on her face. It fell when she recognized Tifa. "Oh." She forced a grin on her face. "Hello."

Smiling in return, Tifa tucked her bangs nervously behind her ear. "Hi, Neely. Can I come in?" She tried to peer into the house but Neely's body blocked her view.

"..I'm ..not good for company right now. The house is a mess..an-"

"It's about Leron and Jerome." said Tifa softly.

"Oh." Neely whispered, face ashen. Her hands, gripping the door frame, were white and Tifa was afraid the girl would collapse. She grabbed her arm to steady her. "Thanks, I'm okay. Really…I didn't. ..didn't know the news would spread so fast."

Tifa didn't reply. There was no answer she could give which alleviated the girl's fear. She settled on easing the door open and helping Neely inside. It was dark. There was single lamp lit in the living room and it dimmed haphazardly each time there was movement nearby. They sat on the couch.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Neely stared hard at the floor. It was a long time before she spoke and when at length she did, she heaved a sigh, then said, "You know, before he died, dad always kept the boys in check. Not me. I followed mum."

She paused. Then she glanced up, her eyes misty and faraway. "Nobody asked me if I wanted to be the leader. It just happened. And I know I get angry easily and scold the boys but I really love them. I do!" Her face tightened . "When I told them I wish they'd just get up and leave, I didn't mean it! I was mad and they wouldn't listen to me."

Tifa remained silent, knowing this was something Neely needed to get off her chest. Even in the darkened room, the girl's red rimmed eyes did not escape her notice. She wondered how many hours Neely must have stayed up, waiting for her brothers' return with the memory of their fight and her regret weighing heavily on her conscience.

"Mr. Bell said you three were having fights for a while now. What were they about, Neely?" Tifa probed gently.

The wind rustled the curtains, sending shadows reeling across the water-stained walls. One particular corner was especially bad, the once yellow flower wallpaper peeling off in sheets.

Neely laughed quietly. "Money."

Looking at her, Tifa felt her heart give a lurch. Neely had large dark green eyes, fringed behind black lashes. If caught in the sunlight, they would surely sparkle like gems. Now, however, they were lifeless, sad and full of self loathing.

Tifa bit her lip. Though reality had hardened her, she was brought up and raised in a house where money was considered to be an indelicate subject. She went ahead anyway. "Were you in debt?"

"What?" For a moment, Neely appeared shocked then collected herself. "No, no, we weren't. We don't have a lot but we manage, Tifa. Always."

"Then..?"

Neely abruptly stood up, slapping her hand against the armrest. "It wasn't the lack of gil! It was the sudden presence of it. Too much all at once."

"What do you mean?" asked Tifa sharply.

"One night, they just waltzed home, saying we never needed to worry about money no more. Then two days later Leron gave me a new dress. It was real pretty, purple silk, I think. But It was also obvious we couldn't afford it. So I asked them, where they got the cash and they told me to butt out."

Neely wrung her hands. "That's why I got so mad! They just wouldn't tell me. All these secrets."

She needed more. "You and your brothers used to be so close. When did all this begin?"

"About a month ago." Neely answered bitterly.

"Were they hanging out with anyone in particular?"

"No. Just their idiot friends"

She leaned forward. "What are their names?"

Neely grasped the point immediately. "Michael, Chel and Ares. I trusted them. Our families knew each other. They said they know nothing. You think they were lying?"

"They might not be," Tifa assured her. "Did anybody else come over?"

"Only a plumber and Mr. Bell. He's a grouch, but ever since our parents died he's always coming over and making sure we have enough to eat."

"I see."

Discouraged, Tifa sank back into the couch, listening to the rest of the girl's tale and pausing only to ask a question or offer a reply.

After half an hour, she rose to her feet. "We'll find them." She wanted passionately to help Neely, to give her strength to go on. "Wherever they are, doesn't matter. We'll bring them home."

Neely looked at Tifa as if trying to discern whether she was speaking genuinely or reciting a common courtesy. Then she took a deep breath and let it out soundlessly. "Tell me honestly, Tifa. Do you think my brothers ran away?"

She froze. "I don't know," she admitted quietly. "But you raised those boys well, Neely. They know right from wrong. And whatever the truth is we'll just have to meet and face it.."

Neely stared at her, aching to believe her. The struggle was naked in her eyes, in the bruised planes of her face and the twist in her mouth. At last, very slowly, she nodded.

***

Tifa walked down the road in silence, her mind greatly unsettled by her conversation with Neely.

When she asked why she hadn't simply informed the WRO of her missing siblings, Neely had stared at her horrified, saying, "I can't do that! What if they really were doing something illegal! I don't want my brothers arrested!"

Her thoughts churning, Tifa snaked her way through the crowd.

It was still impossible to determine the reason why the boys left but she now had a vague clue. There was money involved. And according to Neely, lots of it. Except were the boys' disappearance connected to the pursuit of money or escape from interrogation _because_ of the money?

A young boy darted by and she jerked back to avoid being squashed between two formidably sized gentlemen. Craning her neck around their bodies, Tifa frowned. Instead of thinning past the intersection, the crowd seemed to multiply.

Curious, she took her cell phone out and checked the time. 11 o'clock. It wasn't even lunch time.

Suddenly, the sounds of sirens pierced the air. Tifa started. The feeling of her throat constricting rapidly began to form. She ducked her head and pressed on, catching snatches of hushed dialogue, gasps and shrieks. She quickened her steps.

***

Cloud was in the throes of delivering a package that morning as he rode his way across the rugged landscape. Fat droplets of rain were slapping the sides of his face, and the damp raw wind stung the skin, freezing his cheeks and arms.

He swore lightly under his breath, tightening his grip on the handles. He should have brought along his helmet. The thick sheet of rain effectively limited his vision to barely five meters ahead and crushed his hopes of arriving in town early.

At least the weather had persuaded most to hole up indoors, the number of vehicles decreasing the further Cloud drove from Edge, freeing the main highway.

Last night he had spoken to Tifa about the missing brothers. Long after their discussion ended, the unvoiced conclusion they reached continued to prey on his mind, plaguing his sleep and filling his head with questions during the hours he was awake.

He squinted at an oncoming road sign. It listed Kalm as being 120 miles away and indicated the presence of a nearby rest stop, inn, and local diner.

If the boys had not run away, were their only other viable alternative, abduction? Or was there perhaps something far more sinister at work? The toppling of former corporation giant Shinra five years ago upped the ante for other smaller 'companies' vying for control, and power. Did they somehow become entangled with the black market? And Edge was built on the ruins of Midgar, there were plenty of secret dens and collapsed tunnels. Could they also still be inside the city, only hiding?

The meeting with Yuffie was scheduled for tomorrow. Her current office was at a small WRO camp just half a mile outside of the city. Before they leave, he was going to make absolutely certain one of these questions were answered.

***

Cloud's hair was considerably deflated by the time he parked Fenrir at Three Cups during late noon. Tucking the package securely under his arm, he pushed the door open. An elderly lady outside had kindly informed him his customer would be indoors. A string made a bell jangle somewhere at the rear of the pub.

"I'm looking for a Rance Isenhart? I have a package for him."

Several heads turned in his direction, some raking their eyes at his appearance with an amused expression, and others, bored. Cloud let his gaze roam the room. There were two ceiling fans and close to seven tables. The place consisted mostly of middle aged workers and a handful of scruffy young men swigging a few glasses in hopes the hard liquor would impress the pretty waitress.

Though in his opinion, Tifa would always be prettier.

He asked again. Someone coughed then a voice said:

"Hullo, dear. You must be looking for my husband. He's in the backroom."

He turned. A plump woman of about sixty years was smiling pleasantly at him from behind the bar counter. She held a glass in her hand and was polishing it. "My name's Maris. Take a seat. Rance will be out shortly."

"C-Cloud. Thanks."

She beamed at him then whirled around and screeched shrilly, "_Rance_! _Come up_. Your delivery is here!"

There was a tumbling crash followed by a loud curse. Cloud winced in sympathy but Maris wasn't remotely fazed. "Hurry up!" she repeated. "You're keeping this nice boy waiting."

"_Alright_! Stop your yelling, woman. I'm _coming_."

Barely a moment passed when the backdoor burst open and a great hulking man with a scraggly head of grey hairs and a matching beard lumbered out. He wore a surprisingly floral apron round his waist and in his hands he clamped four bottles of beer. He took one look at Cloud then sighed exasperatedly back at his wife.

"Well, he's not in a hurry now is he?"

"You don't _know_ that. A nice young man like him always has someone to return to. Don't you dearie?"

Cloud coloured but didn't affirm or refute her statement. Smiling, Maris nodded knowingly then stepped away to answer a customer's call. Rance shook his head.

"I apologize 'bout the missus," he shot a look at his wife. She sniffed, scribbling madly with pencil and pad. "So you got something for me, eh?"

"Yes, sir." Cloud passed him the package.

Rance cradled the packet and inhaled deeply. "Ah, goat cheese. There's never a smell quite like it."

He thanked Cloud heartily and after paying him, offered him a glass of spirit before he left. Cloud hesitated but the owner was adamant so he chose a stool and waited. He was finishing the last drop when a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around.

A middle aged couple gazed anxiously back at him.

"Sorry," The man spoke. "Excuse me but are you Mr. Strife? _The _Cloud Strife?"

A hush fell across the room. Immediately suspicious, Cloud narrowed his eyes then relaxed slightly when the man didn't pull out a gun. "Yes." he answered guardedly. He could acutely feel the eyes of the other patrons listening in.

Suddenly the man looked relieved, and the woman beside him gave a tearful sob. "Oh thank goodness. Adine thought I was crazy when I told her Rance was having his special ingredients delivered by a service named 'Strife'." Then his face became grave. "My name is Jones and this is my wife, Adine. We need your help. Our daughter, Lisa, went missing two months ago."

His wife jerked her head and said earnestly, "We reported her to WRO but so far, nothing."

Cloud stiffened. It was like a bucket of ice cold water was sloshed at his face and dripping pin pricks down the length of his spine. "Missing?" he rasped.

Jones looked at him strangely. "Yes. I said so."

"You live in this town?"

"Yes."

"How old is Lisa?"

"Eleven."

That was Denzel's age. He didn't even want to imagine. He couldn't bear the thought. In an instant he felt another pang of pity for the parents engulf him.

"Do you have anybody against you?"

"You think I'm a wanted man? No!"

"You're sure?"

"Course I am!" He was shaking now, but his eyes did not waver.

"Where did you last see her?"

"Outside our door. She was going off to school. We waved good bye." Mrs. Jones replied, her voice thick with grief. "We haven't seen our baby since."

"Can you describe Lisa to me, please. What does she look like?"

"She's always been small for her age, 4'8 or maybe a bit more. She has short brown hair and brown eyes. And the loveliest smile. That day Lisa was wearing a pink dress."

Her voice cracked and she leaned into her husband for support. Jones slid an arm around his wife's shoulder, drawing her close and murmuring hushed word of comfort into her ear. After a moment, she quietened.

Jones lifted his head, his expression solemn and pleading. The face of a man cornered, with no options, faith or personal pride left.

"Please, we're begging you. We're desperate. Help us. Find our little girl."

***

It was a little past evening when Cloud finally returned to Seventh Heaven. His encounter with the Jones carried significant implications for Neely's brothers and he was keen on sharing it with Tifa. However, the moment he walked through the door, he sensed something odd.

The first thing which struck him was the bar's peculiar emptiness for the time. The few patrons who were drinking, appeared to be either shaken or immersed deep in thought.

"Cloud, you're back!"

Denzel hovered restlessly near the pantry door. His hair was mussed, his face pinched and pale.

Cloud felt his pulse race. He strode over, not caring when the counter gate slammed shut with a bang.

"What's wrong?" he breathed.

"T-there was an accident today. Near the big statue. And Mr. Bell.." Denzel gulped audibly. "He died, Cloud."


	4. Who had a great fall?

**_AN_**: I know I took a lengthy break from this but now the plot bunny is back on track.

I just have one tiny request. Please, if you're going to favorite or add this to story alert, please, pleases drop a review. I realize this sounds very wheedling and childish but I'm really fond of this particular fic out of all my others and I'd love to hear your thoughts. I know you're out there, the story wouldn't have reached 2k in hits otherwise.

And lastly, a big round of applause and early Halloween treats for: mom calling, vLuna, Vanilla Raindrops, gingerbreadbear and Dawn. Fire. Angel.

* * *

'Oh what became of the Likely Lads?'

-The Libertines

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Who had a great fall?

**

* * *

**

For an instant, Cloud could feel his heart pounding; it was difficult to get his breath, and when he spoke to keep his voice steady. There was no reason to suspect any foul play. He needed to keep his views and emotions under control if he was to take charge of the situation.

Denzel was trembling, and looked expectantly up at Cloud. His eyes were round, complete trust flickering in his young transparent face. Cloud prayed he was worthy. He remembered what it was like to store all his hopes, dreams, and confidence into one single person and idolizing him. In the end, it had disastrous results.

How could he make it up if he disappointed the child?

"What do we do?" Denzel whispered.

"Nothing," Cloud replied grimly. "There's very little we can do right now. I know this sounds wrong, Denzel, but we just have to wait this out. Where's Marlene? I need you to stay with her. Come inside with me first, we'll go see Tifa then I need you to find Marlene.

Denzel didn't look entirely convinced, but he nodded his head. "'kay." His face reflected a conflict of fear, worry and contempt. "Tifa's upstairs talking to a WRO officer. He kicked me out."

"I see," Cloud said very quietly. "When did he come?" They moved through the kitchen and Cloud quickened his steps to follow Denzel. The confusion was all beginning to swell inside him again, making it hard to connect his thoughts. He thought aloud. "There can't be much to tell. We only know Mr. Bell because he's a customer."

Wordlessly, Denzel led the way up the stairs. Cloud could hear voices now, one muffled and one distinct, along with a third, sniffles and whimpers. When they reached the top he squeezed Denzel's shoulder and watched the boy slip into Marlene's room before entering down the dim hallway.

He found them sitting in the den. The window was open, a cool breeze rustling the curtains provided a distraction from the tense atmosphere. Tifa was still wearing her jacket, her hair wild and windblown. She was frowning and rubbing her arms as if to keep warm while she duly answered the man whom Cloud assumed to be the officer. He was tall, nearly as tall as Cloud himself, but tighter knit, and with a stiff countenance. There was a moustache on his face and when he spoke, his voice had a rich tenor. Cloud judged him to be about forty- years. The customary red cap of WRO lay on the table beside the pistol and gunman's vest.

Cloud's face darkened. He wondered at the presence of the weapons, then looked away. It would do no good to protest, especially if his complaint was read as an attack on standard procedure. He cleared his throat and rushed inside.

"Tifa, what's going on?"

She turned. "Cloud! You're back."

"Yes, but what's happened? I came home and found Denzel, pale as a ghost, who tells me Mr. Bell had an accident. That he _died_, Tifa. Is that true?"

"Yes," her voice was shaky and Cloud had to mentally restrain himself from sitting next to her and holding her. "But it's not how you think it is. There was a _near _accide-"

"Excuse me," The officer said sharply, raising an eyebrow at Cloud. The pair paused and jerked their attention to him. "I was talking to Miss. Lockhart and I don't care much for interruptions. Identify yourself, please."

Not to be cowed, Cloud squared his shoulders and met the officer's gaze directly. "Strife. Cloud Strife. I live here; this is my home."

If his name registered at all in the man's mind, then his face did not show it. It remained stoically blank, though he bowed his head fractionally in apology. "I am sorry, I did not know. My name is Inspector Merain."

Cloud shook his hand formally. As expected, Merain's grip was strong and Cloud smiled tersely at the Inspector.

"So what happened?" he prompted again after they were settled. "Were there more than one crash today?"

Merain looked up at him. "No, no, there was just this one. However, as Miss. Lockhart here has stated," he gestured to Tifa, "it was only a _near_ accident. The truck was running a red light and Mr. Bell was unfortunately the last person crossing, but he was not struck by the vehicle. The truck came to a screeching halt though the fright alone may have knocked Mr. Bell down. Regrettably, the driver did not stay and took off as soon as the old fellow collapsed."

"If that was it, why isn't he alive?" Cloud cried incredulously.

"Because Mr. Bell had a weak heart," Tifa interrupted, glancing at Merain for confirmation. He nodded gravely. "Cloud, did Denzel tell you the accident occurred near the town centre? 'Cause it didn't. After the people helped Mr. Bell to his feet, well, you know him, he likes to be independent so he waved them off. It was only when he reached town that he collapsed of a stroke."

Cloud rubbed his eyes tiredly. The bewildering change of circumstances from what he had envisioned threw him in a loop. He took comfort in the nearness of Tifa and her surety of the event. "Alright, so let me get this straight. Mr. Bell was _almost _run over but didn't. Was helped and got back on his feet only to die a few blocks later."

"That's the gist of it," Merain said impatiently. "We have a theory the pressure in his heart valves may have spiked drastically as a result of the experience, causing his cardiac arrest a later."

"But what does this have to do with us? We could have found this out in the newspapers tomorrow."

At last, Merain coughed and had the grace to appear embarrassed. "Before you came in, Miss Lockhart was explaining to me how she ran into Mr. Bell earlier this morning. And he was a regular customer at your diner, was he not? I'd hoped to find someone who could answer some of my questions."

Cloud hid his feelings on what he perceived as an interrogation but nodded guardedly. "Shoot."

"Can you advise me as to what he was like?"

Tifa spoke first. She rose from her spot, slapping a hand indignantly on the armrest. "He wasn't the least bit shady," she retorted hotly, "He was nice, kind and sincere. A bit gruffy if you catch him on a bad day but what old man isn't after they pass fifty. I can't believe anybody would want him dead."

"I see." Merain turned his gaze on Cloud. His voice was neutral. "And you, Strife, how did you see him?"

"The same way," Cloud said, looking reassuringly at Tifa. She flashed him a small, grateful smile. "He was a good man. He didn't come here often but he was always pleasant."

"What did the man do for a living?"

"I'm not sure. I think he was a construction worker."

The Inspector nodded thoughtfully then continued. "Did he ever talk about how he got that permanent discoloration on his face?"

Cloud shrugged. "No, he never said anything so we didn't ask. It wouldn't be right."

Merain persisted ruthlessly. "Do you have a guess?" He fired this question at Tifa.

"We assumed it was a leftover mark from Geostigma," she pursed her lip, "it's not uncommon and he did receive the cure late."

He asked a few more questions, thinly disguised queries on the reputation and character of Mr. Bell. When it became obvious, the pair would not budge on their opinion of the dead gentleman he switched tactics.

"And he lived alone."

"He was a widow." Cloud corrected. His eyes slid to Tifa. Her hands were clenched and she was biting her bottom lip as if trying to keep her mouth busy and closed. Then he remembered the kids a few doors down and wanted to order the inspector to leave.

"Can you elaborate more on that, please." Merain's eyes were bright and keen with interest. He pulled a notepad from his breast pocket.

"I'm sorry. That's not our place to say. If you want to rummage through his past you'll need to contact his relatives." Tifa snapped, glaring at the man. "Now, Inspector Merain, we've helped you all we can. I've told you what happened earlier and we've both attested to Mr. Bell's character. Whether you believe us or not is entirely your prerogative though if you ask other people, I'm sure you'll get the same response."

She strode over to the table and collected the items. "I think you should go. Mr. Merain. It's 8 o'clock and I have a family to feed. " Her voice was civil and brook no room for argument. She opened the front door. "Good night, sir."

An expression of annoyance crossed Merain's face only it was so fleeting, Cloud half wondered if he merely imagined it. Dipping his head to the both of them, Merain echoed Tifa's sentiment then walked into the darkening night.

"And good riddance!" Tifa slammed the door but then her nerves seemed to vanish and she collapsed on her knees, moaning. "I can't stand that man."

Amused and agreeing whole heartedly, Cloud crouched down and told her so.

"Really?" Tifa gripped his arm for a moment, then eased away. "You don't think I was too rude do you?"

"I think you were very rude." He smiled widely. "I was kind of impressed. Tifa Lockhart gets mad at a stranger. There's a first time for everything."

"_Cloud!"_

Suddenly serious, he grabbed her hands and held it between his. They were trembling. Cloud frowned, this finding didn't endear Merain more to him. "Look at me."

Tifa lifted her head.

"You've gotta realize the man was an ass, Teef," Cloud rubbed her fingers gently. "He had it coming. I know being an inspector, asking questions was his job but he didn't need to plant all those insinuations. What you did was right. You defended Old Man Bell. He would have been proud and Merain deserved to be kicked out. Okay?"

His heart lightened at the grin spreading across Tifa's face as she nodded.

"Good."

He stood up first then offered Tifa his hand and hauled her to her feet. He wasn't lying when he said those words to cheer her up. He really disliked the man. Merain reminded him of a bloodhound, quick to sniff and growl, seizing any form of information, eager to present it to the higher ups.

Except even all this Cloud could forgive, however, that was still no excuse for his manipulative behaviour. In hind sight, he supposed he was glad Tifa showed Merain out the door when she did. He would have been less polite in his method.

"I'm hungry," he said with a grin. "What's there to eat?"

*****

After dinner, Cloud was in the kitchen rinsing the dishes. Tifa was in the bedrooms putting the children to sleep, and he knew, probably explaining to them what happened earlier. Denzel was the most curious, peppering Cloud with questions during the meal which he refused to answer. Marlene had stayed silent but by the end of dinner, a semblance of her old perkiness returned.

As he scrubbed the plates, his mind replayed the events of his delivery and churned with possibilities and scenarios. Though the Jones never explicitly stated if their conversation was confidential, Cloud knew he needed to tell Tifa about Lisa.

But first he needed to review the facts. The girl disappeared two months ago. Her parents were obviously frantic for her safe return so she was clearly wanted and loved. This was not a case of gross parental negligence. She was last seen in Kalm wearing a purple dress, and heading off to school.

Cloud sighed and rubbed his forehead with the back of his sleeves, careful to avoid the suds on the glove. He couldn't shake off the creeping dread that once a child was missing for such a long length of time, they had no intention of coming home.

Or they were dead, his mind whispered.

The copper scourer squealed against the porcelain surface of the pot. Cloud swallowed thickly, trying to block the screams of the villagers, of the SOLDIERS, of Zack, of Aerith, those who died on the streets of Geostigma and of everyone who fell under his sword. Death, he knew, didn't discriminate and touched everyone.

Who was to say it couldn't touch an eleven year old girl named Lisa?

Cloud shut his eyes, concentrating on the feel of hot water lapping against his hands as he scrubbed. The heat soaking in through the rubber gloves brought a welcome distraction from the images whirling in his head.

He wondered if Tifa discovered any more news about Neely's brothers. Before they parted last night in front of her bedroom, she'd told him she was going over to visit Neely's in the morning and see what she could do to help.

All three missing kids had yet to reach the second decade of their lives. They were young. Very young. It was strange feeling, he thought, though he was still no more than ten years older than the eldest, Leron, he suddenly felt very old, and weary in comparison.

Leron and Jerome

Lisa

Leron

Jerome

Lisa

Their names repeated, hissing faintly like a broken record. Then his eyes flew open as a new thought hit him with all the force of a lightning bolt. Maybe not now, but soon, would there more to add?

*****

Whispering good night, Tifa pulled the door closed behind her and tiptoed down the stairs. Despite her efforts to hide it, she was still shaken over what happened and the kids knew it. Marlene was extra quiet tonight, and even offered Tifa her favourite moogle plushie to hug while she went to sleep. Denzel had been similarly passive, choosing not to ask her any questions, instead giving her a warm hug and telling her not to worry.

When Tifa neared the kitchen, she heard mutterings and hurried her steps. "Cloud?"

He was standing near the sink, a towel in one hand, and a plate in the other. Several of the dishes were already placed on the rack but a column still lay untouched on the counter. "Don't worry, I didn't break any."

A few soap bubbles were clinging to Cloud's bangs and there was a huge wet stain on the front of his shirt. Tifa smiled warily. This was an old quibble between them. She always reminded him to wear an apron when he was washing the dishes but he never complied. Then unexpectedly out of nowhere, the utter normalness of the situations struck her and she could feel her legs buckling. "Oh my god, Cloud, Mr. Bell _died."_

Cloud was instantly by her side, supporting her back. As he led her to a chair, she tried to read his expression but failed to discern if he was expecting this sudden outburst or not. Tifa chewed her cheeks. She should have realized sooner clamping down on her emotions would only result in a delayed reaction.

"I know, I know." His voice was gentle, filled with understanding. "It's a shock."

"And poor Neely," Tifa wrung her hands. "Her brothers, missing! They weren't just running away, Cloud. Neely suspects something. I know it. She said so herself. Apparently the boys were caught up in a money-making scheme and wouldn't tell her where the gil was coming from."

She felt drained and lowered her head. "Neely believes they were up to something illegal. And I hate to say it, but I think so too."

Cloud blinked at her solemnly. He extended a hand to her and she took it gratefully, his warmth seeping into her skin and reviving her strength. Sometimes she wondered if she was relying too much on Cloud but she was too scared to confront him.

Together they sat silently at the table, each fixed on their own thoughts, until Cloud drew back and held her gaze in a level stare. "Teef, there's more."

Tifa was puzzled. "What?"

"There's more. I was delivering a package today in Kalm and I ran across this couple named Jones. Their little girl is also missing, Teef. She's only eleven year old."

Her eyes widened, a chill tingling down her spine. "What?" she repeated weakly, "Sorry, tell me again. This time start from the beginning, Cloud."

As she listened to his story, her heart sank further. Lisa sounded like a sweet girl. She was simply going off to school when she was abducted. Brown hair and brown eyes. A cheeky smile and an insatiable curiosity. If not for the detail that she was eleven, Tifa could have sworn the description fit Marlene perfectly.

"Do you think she's connected? With Loren and Jerome."

"I don't know," Cloud murmured, a heavy tone of regret laced his voice. "At first I thought it might but now they seem completely unrelated. Especially if Neely's brothers were mixing in illegal activities. There's no way an eleven year old could run with that crowd"

"You're right," Tifa reached over and squeezed his hand. "We'll just have to buck up and get to the bottom of this. Your clients probably won't mind if you take a couple more days off and I can shut the diner for Sunday and Monday."

Nodding his assent, Cloud glanced at the wall clock then stood up. "We should get to bed then. We have that meeting with Yuffie tomorrow in the morning," he said, tucking in his chair. "And we'll need all our energy for that."

Tifa rolled her eyes. "Of course."

They remained in the kitchen for a few more minutes to tidy up then moved upstairs. As usual, they reached her room first and parted.

"Cloud?"

He turned around and silently padded back. "What is it?"

And as usual, the words froze in her mouth. "Never mind. Good night."

She would try and tell him next time.


	5. The Clock strikes Three

**_AN_**: *claps* Halloween is just popping 'round the corner so I'll leave a heads notice here that I won't be updating this story next week. And probably the one after too. A whole bunch of papers and assignments are due at the start of November and I know if I don't kick my butt in gear, something _will _hit the fan. Namely my grades.

So yes, please and thank-you's for your understanding.

And once again, Aeros and Mars Bars for my faithful reviewers. You guys all really deserve a truck full of goodies: Dawn. Fire. Angel, mulberrie, vLuna, Vanilla Raindrops, gingerbreadbear, XoxoChocoXoXo, and purplesocks.

* * *

'A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away  
Safe and sound

- Snow Patrol

* * *

**Chapter Four  
**

The clock strikes three

* * *

Cloud dropped his foot on the gravel, slowly repeating his name into the crackling intercom installed at the front of the entrance. Moments later the machine buzzer sounded and the iron gates wrenched open, revealing a massive, sprawling building with many windows and thick walls, fortified by a mixture of concrete and steel.

He gripped the handlebars and Fenrir shot ahead, the gates groaning shut behind them. Tifa's hold instantly tightened around his waist so he consciously shifted forward in his seat. He didn't look back, his cheeks warming despite the chilly wind.

As they neared the building, the World Regenesis Organization logo could be seen emblazoned on one of several flags fluttering atop the central spire. There were no sentries posted here, nor strategically placed cameras, but a tall, barbed wire fence encompassed the large perimeter, its electric coils winking in the early light. A smattering of white tents sprouted next to the main building, people pushing and crying out in loud voices while they darted across the camp.

Cloud quickly cut the engine, swinging his left leg over. He felt a twinge of disappointment when Tifa easily hopped off the bike, smoothing her rumpled skirt. She threw her arms up, stretching, then caught his eye, and flashed him a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Guess I didn't get enough sleep as I thought."

He grinned, in spite of himself. When Tifa first stumbled into the kitchen this morning, her hair was a wreck and as she tried to fix herself a pot of coffee, she kept teetering to the side, rubbing her eyes in way that had him itching to pull the covers back over her head.

"You could have slept on the way here."

"And fallen off your gigantic bike?" Tifa snorted, looking nonplussed. "Not likely. I could get skewered by your swords." Stifling a yawn, she started moving towards the tents. The level of noise steadily rose as they approached and Cloud quickened his pace to fall in step beside her.

"Well, I wouldn't have let you fall," Cloud said defensively, fishing a slip of paper from his coat pocket. "And those swords won't snap out until I push a button. You know that."

"Still dangerous," she quipped, yielding to another surging crowd. The number of WRO officers present was surprising given the small space. Everywhere he turned a group of khaki clad men and women rushed busily to and from tents, clutching a sizable file of reports in their hands.

Frowning at the apparent snub to his beloved bike, Cloud swatted her arm in retort. "Anyways, according to this, Yuffie should be i-"

"_Oi_! Spiky, Tifa! Over here!"

He spun around, almost reflexively, at the familiar screeching. Tifa did much the same, squinting in the general direction, trying to locate her friend. After a few moments his vision honed in on the petite Wutian. She was a few meters away, bouncing on her heels and judging by the impatient expression on her face, Cloud guessed she was getting ready to holler again. He nudged Tifa gently. "There."

"Jeez, what took you guys so long? Didn't you miss me? Of course, ya did! How's Marls and Denzel? If you get a call from school, it was definitely not my fault. I haven't been teaching them anything! Hey –What's with that face, Spikey? Aren't you happy to see me?"

Yuffie was dressed in her usual ninja garb, but with the absence of a Shuriken slung over her back. This was not the only difference; the blue shirt she typically wore had been traded in for a green, the letters WRO sewn onto the breast pocket. She also sported a beret, much like the other recruits, except her was blue. Cloud silently admired Yuffie's energy. She always did have an infinite supply.

He smiled back. "Morning, Yuffie."

She returned it with a sunny beam. "Same as ever," she intoned, then pulled a face and glanced at Tifa. The two girls burst into giggles.

Cloud blinked but before he could respond Yuffie skipped behind them, ushering him and Tifa into a nearby tent. He stared. The inside was much larger than its appearance outside suggested, the ceiling high enough so he could stand at his full height without skimming the cloth. Suddenly, Tifa gasped. She lurched forward and his hand shot out to steady her. "Easy."

He looked down. The ground was tangled with red and white cables. They crisscrossed the whole length of the floor, disappearing underneath the brown tarp and emerging again when they connected to a faintly glowing computer, hidden at the back of the tent. The word MIME was stamped on its front for Mechanical, Industrial and Manufacturing Engineering.

Yuffie gestured for them to grab a stool. Her face was serious. For a second, Cloud was thrown off balance. Even in the heat of battle, Yuffie carried a smile and always seemed to be on the brink of amusement. He grew nervous.

"So what's going on?" she demanded to Cloud, searching his face. "You told me there were two boys missing since Monday. When I ran a search for them on the network, nothing comes up. Zero, zilch," Yuffie shrugged her thin shoulders for emphasis. "Their names are Leron and Jerome, right? Family name, Lechten?"

Tifa's head jerked up. "What?"

Cloud jumped to his feet. "That's ridiculous. What do you mean they weren't on the network?"

Yuffie looked startled and her face tightened minutely. "Exactly what it means. Their sister reported them missing, didn't she? When I typed their names on Edge's police records, nothing showed up. No file, no statement. I didn't have anything to work with."

Cloud loosened his fists and heaved a sigh of relief. It was like the vice gripping his lungs lifted. There was still hope.

Tifa spoke first. She peered tentatively around Yuffie, her gaze landing on the computer. "Neely didn't report them, Yuffie. There was some cash involved. She was too scared her brothers got mixed into something dirty. That's why we came to you. We thought, maybe, you could .." she twiddled her thumbs, lowering her voice. "..run them up on WRO. Expand the search. They have to be out there. Neely's frantic for them to come home."

A wan smile flickered over Yuffie's face then vanished again. "You want me to hack the system?"

"Just to look them up. No one has to know." Cloud pointed out.

Yuffie frowned. They were still standing in front of the machine and its occasional beeps and dings filled the silence. It was so close. Cloud didn't think Yuffie would refuse them but neither was he going to march out of the tent without getting some answers. And maybe some of his determination showed in his stance because Yuffie surrendered.

"Yeesh, alright. But you guys owe me," she sighed, slumping her shoulders. "And me and my pals get to eat at free at the Diner. For a week."

Tifa nodded hastily. 'Sure, whenever you want."

Mollified, Yuffie flexed her fingers and entered the password to log in. Cloud watched curiously. Nobody in Edge could afford a computer. They were too expensive. Not to mention the strain on the energy bill, he winced. Plus they took up too much room.

The screen on the monitor blanked for an instant and switched to a red backdrop with a progress bar on the bottom. Yuffie waited until it cleared then clicked on an icon. When the window appeared, she typed in a name. "L-e-c-h-t-e-n- L-e-r-o-n."

The page immediately produced a familiar face. Leron's shaggy brown hair fell to his ears and he had a crooked grin. He looked younger than Cloud remembered. Sometimes Neely brought her brothers over to Seventh Heaven and from what he could recall, Leron was a cocky kid, but harmless. He was just at that age. Jerome had been the quieter brother.

Cloud was on the verge of confirming the identity when suddenly Tifa made a strangled noise behind him. He turned. She was sat crumpled on a stool, her hands flying to her mouth and her eyes were wide with shock.

"He's dead."

"_What_?" Cloud whipped around. Yuffie didn't answer but jabbed her finger at the profile. In big bold letters the words 'DECEASED' leaped from the page. Why didn't he see it before? It was almost mocking him. He had no idea. Another life gone, like so much else.

Cloud choked. "He's dead?"

His mind duly registered his repetition of Yuffie's earlier comment but it could not remove the horror of the phrase. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "But that doesn't make any sense. There was no news. No body was found this week. And if there was, Edge would have placed an ad asking for the public's help to identify it."

Tifa snapped to attention. "Check Jerome, Yuffie." Her tone was brisk. Cloud wondered how she felt. Did she too, feel like it was an ugly lie? Or had she already accepted it?

Obediently, Yuffie closed the window and ran a search for Jerome. This time Cloud didn't even need to glance at the screen. Yuffie's face fell and with it his hope of seeing the boy alive. Cloud felt crushed. Poor Neely. He didn't know how to break it to her. He groped for something solid, his hands balling into fists as the heat in his chest rose to his throat.

Yuffie gazed down at him, her eyes soft with pity. "I'm sorry. If I had known-"

"No, that's not it.' Tifa interrupted, glaring openly at the computer. "What Cloud said is right. There is no way this makes sense. If there was a body found in Edge, we would have heard about it. Mr. Bell died yesterday and the whole town knew. "

"Who's Mr. Bell?"

Cloud pushed the bangs from his eyes. "We'll tell you later," he said ruefully. "Does it list where his body was found? How he died?"

"No," Yuffie admitted. "But that's not too uncommon."

"How's that?" Tifa challenged. Her face was pinched, her expression set.

"Sometimes the information is kept confidential. Especially if the body is found outside of the town or city of their citizenship. There are certain policies and agreements between areas and the WRO won't usually intervene unless the town's police jurisdiction calls us for attention. Also, if the person seemed to have died of natural causes, that is the default assumption unless the profile says otherwise."

Cloud considered her answer carefully before continuing. It flashed into his mind that if indeed the brothers fled Edge, there would be one sure way to prove it. He stared at Tifa beside him, then across at Yuffie's sympathetic face, her brows knit thoughtfully beneath dark bangs. He was aware that Yuffie was already bending the rules for them but he could not abandon the boys. He could not explain it. The profile listed them as dead, there was nothing left to save and that he ought to concede.

Only he couldn't.

"You have access to the security files for the city gate's right?" Cloud let the question dangle, focusing instead on Tifa. He moved closer to her. "I need you to scan through them for me. Run a search for the boys under the list of names for this week."

Yuffie opened her mouth to object then nodded mutely.

"On Tuesday Leron Lechten left Edge through the west gate. The time stated here is 11:22pm. I don't think his brother followed him. His name doesn't appear at all," Yuffie recited, narrowing her eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

Cloud stood firm, his jaw tightening. "Because, if Leron went west that gives us at least one clue where he was headed. And the fact that he left under the cover of night probably means he didn't want to be seen. There's something suspicious going on. You can't possibly believe that two teenage boys - who disappear - would die of natural means. That'd be idiotic."

"And Jerome didn't follow Leron. He never left Edge. That should mean his body was found inside Edge." Tifa persisted, leaning far forwards, her hands, white knuckled were trembling on her knees. "Except that won't make sense because the report didn't say where he was discovered. Which brings me to another point," she drew in another breath, "how come WRO didn't inform Neely of her brothers' deaths? It's obvious they've confirmed it on the file."

Yuffie remained quiet. Then she slapped her hand on the computer desk, ignoring when the machine made a squeaky whine and fell silent. "I don't know," she said hotly, dishevelling her hair with a hand. "Argh, I just don't know! I guess it's too much to hope this is a glitch in the system, eh? – Yeah, I thought so. Man, this is so darned frustrating!"

Cloud agreed. But there was one more question he had to ask before they leave.

"Could you pull up the report on a Mr. Thaddeus Bell?"

***

Tifa paused beside a rusted lamp post, waiting for Cloud to rejoin her at the end of the crosswalk. She didn't know if he realized but his gait had slowed some after their meeting with Yuffie. Even during the ride back into the city he hadn't spoken much, and when he did, his answers only consisted of either grunts or one-word replies. It was as if though he was physically present, his mind was miles off.

The early October sun shone through the thick smog above the row of buildings. It was a little after one in the afternoon, and the streets were full with people middling about, their exchanges melting with the booms of construction, and angry car horns. And for all Tifa could see, it was as if the accident yesterday had never occurred.

Tifa brushed Cloud's shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked with half a smile. "I know you're thinking about Mr. Bell, Cloud. Don't bother denying it. What's wrong?"

Cloud stopped and stared at her for a few moments, gauging the hesitation in her, then as abruptly, looked away. "I think there's something odd, Tifa. Didn't Merain say the cause for Mr. Bell's death was cardiac arrest? That his heart failed because of the near-death accident?"

Understanding hit her, and Tifa nodded with a hint of distaste. "Yes."

"So don't you find it strange that on his file report the cause of death said 'Pending'?"

"I did think about that but maybe the processing takes time. It's only been a day. We can check up on it with Yuffie some other time."

They walked to the end of block and turned into Neely's neighbourhood. The feeling in Tifa's gut twisted. Could she break the news to the girl? Did they even have the right? Or would it be better if they simply left it alone, and pretend the meeting never happened? To give Neely the truth meant snatching away the last two remaining members of her family. She would not thank them for it and the news would shatter her.

It would be a living heartbreak Neely could never escape from.

Tifa tried to imagine greeting each new day as an empty existence, filled with disappointment and despair because the ones closest to her were gone. She succeeded but she wanted to weep.

In such a world, how could Neely find happiness again?

She inhaled shakily, climbing the porch steps. "Do we tell her the truth?" Tifa asked hoarsely.

Cloud swore. He moved to the door, and knocked. "We owe her the truth."

The door creaked open. Without saying a word, Neely motioned for them to come inside. She was dressed in a ratty shirt, the red dye having long since faded to a shade of dull pink, and when matched with her grey pallor, it made her appearance even more wraith-like. When they were all seated, she smiled bleakly at them. "What is it? Did you learn anything?"

Tifa's chest wrenched again at the innocent question. She shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry, Neely. I'm so sorry."

Bewildered, Neely blinked once, frowning helplessly up at Cloud. He averted his eyes. For a splint second it seemed she would brush the apology aside as ordinary then comprehension set and she clutched her shirt. Neely moaned. "Oh god. You mean…"

Tifa shifted and caught the girl in her arms. Neely's shoulders hitched and great heaving sobs wracked her small frame. Tifa bit her lip until she could taste blood. Her blouse was quickly become sodden with tears but she hugged Neely closer.

Cloud's lips pressed into a thin line. He was staring at his hands. The muscles in his jaw tensed fractionally and with a horrible jolt, Tifa identified the broken expression on his face.

_Guilt. _

"I can't believe they're gone." Neely whispered huskily. She made no move to sit up and Tifa didn't dissuade her. Even if all the comfort she could offer was fleeting, Tifa would still try. She knew from experience sometimes presence was enough to chase the nightmares away.

"I'll never see them again," Neely said in a very small voice. "This..and they're..."

Another sob sounded loud in the room and Neely buried her face in her hands. Tifa felt engulfed with a mixture of grief and pity, and a quiet fury for the sudden unraveling of events.

The depressing yellow wallpaper, already peeling, seemed to wilt even further in front of her eyes. Speculation about the brothers' death was now meaningless. At first Tifa believed their suspicions might buffet the blow.

Not anymore.

If later they found the bodies, it would be too cruel.

She glanced briefly at Cloud again then rocked the girl, slowly, gently this time.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…I'm sorry.."

***

It was with a heavy heart, Tifa shut the door softly behind her. After a whole week of utter sleep deprivation, patiently waiting for her brothers to return home, exhaustion had finally claimed Neely. The girl had fallen asleep crying on the couch and it was Tifa who made the decision not to wake her. At least in sleep, she could find some solace the waking world could not provide.

"That was terrible," Tifa said viciously. The double loss felt by Neely had struck her sharply and the unfairness ripped at the stitches of another old wound. She sucked in a breath. "I hate this! Why do these things have to hap-"

"Shhh." Cloud stopped abruptly, a shadow of distrust crossed his eyes. "There."

Tifa looked. The man, walking down the block towards them, waved. She would recognize that infuriating figure anywhere. "Merain."

"Hullo."

"What are you doing here?" Cloud asked coldly. "Shouldn't you be at the headquarters?"

Merain sneered. "On the contrary, this is where the boss sent me. I need to dig up more information about the old guy it seems. And since you both didn't help me much last night…"

Tifa chose to ignore the last comment. "And did you get it?"

"Maybe. But the neighbours here aren't very talkative." Merain said flippantly, shrugging his wide shoulders. "Why - What's it to you?" His smile broadened knowingly. "Ah, did you remember something of Mr. Bell's past that you've neglected to tell me yesterday?

A shudder of annoyance coursed through her and Tifa unconsciously tightened her fists. "No," she hissed between clenched teeth. "Sorry to disappoint but we don't spread lies."

"I see."

She bristled with dislike. Perhaps sensing another provoked outburst, Cloud took a step forward, effectively blocking Merain's path. The Inspector made an affronted noise. "Where are you going?"

Merain looked at Cloud as if he had grown two heads. He pointed at Neely's house. "This house, of course."

"You can't."

"Excuse me?"

Cloud folded his arms. Tifa nearly laughed with relief. "I said you can't go in there."

"You can't tell me what to do," Merain sputtered angrily, "Don't you know who I am? I'm a WRO Inspector and I can go wherever I damn well please. Now stand aside."

The answer was simple. Tifa glared at Merain, thinking with his thinning hairline and high nose, he resembled more rat than man. "No. And I'll give you a warning, stop snooping. Isn't it enough Mr. Bell is dead? Can't you leave him some honour? Stop trying to claw your way up top."

"Why you!" His face turned a mottled purple but he controlled it almost immediately. Cloud shifted his body slightly in front of Tifa. His face was dark and he watched Merain carefully, ready to intercept if he made a move.

"Hmmph." Merain's gaze flickered between the two of them. He smiled sickly at them then raised his hands. "Fine, I give up. I won't go in," he agreed, casting a look around the street. "For now. But there will be a next time and you can't always be here. Then we'll see who gets the last words." And without any further form of farewell, Merain pivoted and walked brusquely towards the end of the road, hailed a cab and climbed in, slamming the door behind him.

It was a tiny victory however Tifa was still seething. She gave a frustrated groan. His parting threat fastened itself in her mind and as she and Cloud went home, she couldn't shake the feelings of dread and inadequacy, as if there were something else she should have said.


End file.
